


Nothing Grows For The Wicked

by BlueKiwi, LyraNgalia



Series: Murder on the Hogwarts Express [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Harry Potter AU, Marauders' Era, Potterlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:56:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueKiwi/pseuds/BlueKiwi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyraNgalia/pseuds/LyraNgalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The halls of Hogwarts Castle are full of secrets. Most of them harmless, the latest gossip of who was seen with whom at the Three Broomsticks, whether or not the injury that sidelined the Hufflepuff beater during the game was <i>really</i> an accident... But sometimes, more interesting, more dangerous secrets slipped their way through the halls...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Grows For The Wicked

The announcement that Slytherin's first Quidditch match of the year would be against Gryffindor swept through the Slytherin dungeons like wildfire, and the excitement was almost palpable, a from the sneers at their rivals' prowess to the excited buzz of conversation over which of the latest noisemakers from Zonko's would demonstrate the most team spirit. Irene Adler, not surprisingly, remained above the discussion, a cool superior smile on her lips as she entered the common room and the buzz of conversation dropped several decibels.

She felt her housemates' eyes on her, their awe, their hatred, their envy, and their desire, and slipped out of the dungeon again without a word. As the heavy wood and iron door swung shut behind her, the conversation stayed quiet behind the door for a heartbeat, like a drawn breath, and then returned to its previous boisterous levels.

"That should distract them for a while," she mused to seemingly no one in particular as she began heading up the staircase, trailing her pale, supple wand against the grey stone. "But _really_ , Moriarty, hiding in plain sight is significantly easier than this near-invisibility you insist upon. By the way, your invisibility spell is unravelling near your calves."  
  
  
"Always a critic."

The voice came from apparently nowhere, a disembodied sound that echoed quietly along the staircase. One moment, Irene was completely alone and in the next, a slim, dark-haired young man had appeared just a few steps above her, leaning against the stone stairwell and frowning down at his wand with the borderline manic intensity that was usually reserved for fanatics. He lifted that gaze to meet Irene's and pouted in an almost sleepy expression.

"No one notices," he whined in a singsongy drawl. He twirled the wand in his hands, several bubbles flying out of its tip. "They're all exceedingly and obnoxiously obtuse." A pause. "Present company notwithstanding."  
  


A part of her attention remains fixed on his wand, despite the seemingly incongruous bubbles that issued from its tip. She'd watched his cabal closely the years before and had sifted through enough rumours to know better than to take the drawling, seemingly insane act at face value.

"No, you just think I'm marginally less obtuse than the rest," she agreed. "And that's all the more reason to critique your little spell

  
  
"Well, yes," Moriarty said as if it were the most obvious thing ever, just barely refraining from looking dismissive. " _Marginally_."

He sighed melodramatically, carefully tucking the wand into an inner lapel of his robe. One must be tidy with these sorts of things. "And what exactly have _you_ been up to, Miss Adler. I feel as if it has been _ages_ since we've properly talked."

  
  
She smirked at that. People like Moriarty liked feeling superior, liked thinking themselves better than the rest, and Irene knew that letting him have the 'marginally' was key to keeping him amiable, to think her either cowed or biddable. To concede that to keep him from looking too close, but object in other things to keep him interested.

There was a reason she never played Wizard's Chess. She didn't like people knowing how she thought, or how much she planned ahead.

Irene tapped her wand against the rough stone, a pair of bright green sparks falling from the tip of her wand to the ground at the gesture. "Now Jim, don't give me _that_. We both know you keep an eye on my business. But really, you ought to find a boy who doesn't breathe so loudly out of his mouth to skulk outside my door. Surely your little crowd has _one_ of those."

  
  
Moriarty's smile was slow to appear and there was something disturbingly wicked about it. Secrets. He loved secrets. And games. This one always played so _well_ , it was almost a pity that sometimes she was so intent on hoarding secrets that she rarely did anything with them...except blackmail. But blackmail was only fun when you could actually _use_ it - and nothing was better than watching people fall apart over a broken promise.

He watched the sparks, tilting his head to the side in a thoughtful gesture. "Yes. Always. I have to admit, you're always intriguing." _And so much more careful of your precious secrets when you know you're being watched._ "My 'crowd' is full of knock-kneed, gap-toothed imbeciles who couldn't so much as cast a levitation spell on a feather. They can be awfully dull."

Then, without warning, he turned on his heel and began heading up the stairs. "I'm hungry."  
  


"Now you're flattering. You _must_ be bored." She's encountered Jim Moriarty often enough in the last six years to no longer be surprised by the often hairpin turns his moods sent him on. Irene simply picked up her pace, her tailored robes fluttering with the motion, and walked alongside him. Never behind.

"And they're far too fond of playing ninepins with the house elves," she said. Kate had given her that particular tidbit after an evening nip out to the kitchens. "Or was that your idea?"  
  


"I'm always bored," he conceded with a sniff.

He shrugged at her question. "I whisper _suggestions_ , Ms. Adler. Nothing more, nothing less. What people decided to do with that is entirely up to them." And most Slytherins were so eager to cause a mess, most usually acted on it. Sheep. All of them.

 

The hall was quiet as they walked, utterly devoid of students, and Irene wondered idly if it were his doing (some sort of redirection charm?) or hers (it had been no coincidence that the match up between Slytherin and their arch rivals had been announced just before she went to speak to Moriarty), or some mixture of both.

"Of course, but it is rather astonishing how many people _do_ take your suggestions. In fact, I expect someone will be coming for one of your suggestions before the term is over."

  
  
He examined his nails, turning over the thought in his mind. Yes, people usually were so intent on pulling a ploy on their so-called enemies and who better to ask than someone who had been setting up plots since before he had come to Hogwarts? It blinded them, these petty little fights and battles, but it served as _some_ amusement during his years there.

"It _is_ bloody astonishing, isn't it?" he drawled. "And if I _recall_ , certain company who shan't be named also asked for a suggestion last year. Yours was more entertaining than the rest, I will give you that though."

  
  
"And that entertainment is the only reason you didn't hex me into shoes afterwards," she answered, mimicking his bored drawl. She twirled her wand through her fingers, the whip-thin wood whistling quietly through the air as she did. "I _do_ know how you like to remember that story, dear."

  
  
He pouted. "It was an idle threat. You're _far_ more useful than a pair of shoes, no matter how stylish."

  
  
"Should I be flattered?" A few portraits on the walls peered with interest at them as they walked, and Irene tapped her wand wordlessly against her fingers. A pale blue light glowed at the tip of her wand, and the air around them felt marginally heavier, as if it could muffle the conversation.

"But how would you like a little opportunity to be less bored?"

  
  
Some of the wizards and witches in the pictures looked irritated at the sudden spell, and grumbled amongst themselves. Moriarty only flashed them a smile and a waggle of his fingers, which only served to anger them even more. He glanced back at Irene with a raised eyebrow. "Well, most people would be delighted to know that they are more beneficial than stilettos. Must I inflate your ego even more?"

He did however perk up at her next words, eyes glittering in interest. Opportunities. Those were fun.

"What exactly do you need?"

  
  
"Me? Nothing I can't get for myself." Deceptive answer, but then they both knew it. She gave him a sidelong look, a smirk playing on her lips.

"But really, Jim, I've heard rumours about that Ravenclaw prefect who tried to dock you house points for being out after hours. Surely you'd like to have a _little_ fun with him."

  
  
He wagged a finger at her. "You're. A. Liiiiiar." Still, there was a light of intrigue in his eyes. There were... _plans_ of a sort to deal with snivelling, uppity Ravenclaws, especially one as irritating as the current prefect. He was however always open to suggestions - if, of course, they were clever enough. And besides that, he knew to tread cautiously when it came to his fellow Slytherin (well...somewhat cautiously - this one was _witty_ ). "There must be something in it for you, Miss Adler. I don't think you'd be so eager to help unless there was."

  
  
Of course, the fact that the Ravenclaw prefect who had given Moriarty trouble was the same one who had a bit of a penchant for being tied up with Muggle things was a complete coincidence. And the fact that Irene mentioned him certainly had no bearing on the fact that he was starting to get a little concerned about his... recreational activities now that he was trying to join the Ministry of Magic and she was starting to get a little irritated by his insistance that she hand over the bits of evidence she had of his exploits.

That had nothing to do with anything. Irene merely smiled and tapped her wand along the front of his robes. "He's hardly bright enough to be a Ravenclaw, much less prefect. Let's just say I want to see him taken down a peg or three."

  
  
"Meaning he's done something _naughty_." He brushed off her wand with an exasperated sigh and then smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles she had caused. He made a face at her. "Tell me that you have better taste than _that_ at least."

  
  
"Surely you know my tastes by now, Jim." She ignored his smoothing out of nonexistent wrinkles and continued. "At least well enough to _guess_ if you want to be delicate."

The key was to set Moriarty on the prefect before the prefect got desperate enough to come to Moriarty after _her_. "Besides, it's always the terribly dull who think that _anything_ out of the ordinary is terribly deviant."

  
  
"I don't knooow." It would bring a bit of excitement, a nice old-fashioned clash between the Houses if word got out about a dalliance between a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw. But to see the deck fall would require more planning and more strings to pull than just a _suggestion_. "It seems like too much work for something so..." he gestured, holding his forefinger and thumb together in Irene's face, "so _tiny_."

  
  
Her lips thinned at the intrusion into her personal space, and Irene tapped her wand against the front of his robes again, this time the gesture producing a violent-hued electric spark at the contact. "Now dear, be a gentleman about these things. I'm not one to kiss and tell. I just thought you'd like to have some _fun_ with the prefect's preferences."

  
  
Moriarty scoffed, making a face at her as he once again brushed the wand away. "I'm _always_ a gentleman, Miss Adler. But as much fun as this could possibly be, the effort may not be worth it." He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as they emerged into the grander halls of the school where some other students were milling about. "Buuuut I suppose I'll need some sort of distraction even though _someone_ hasn't told me what's in it for her."

Some of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws they passed gave them dark, suspicious looks which Moriarty returned with a knowing, almost manic grin. It was that smile that quickly averted eyes and left many students grumbling. He gave Irene a sideways look. "Don't tell me you just need me distracted so you can go after our dear Mr. Holmes."

  
  
She pursed her lips at the question, visibly annoyed, and flicked her wand through the air, its flexible length whistling like a whip. "I have better things to do than toy with _him_ again," she answered archly. "As for all this indelicate prying into what I'm getting out of it, Jim, maybe I just want a friend in the Ministry."

And she had _just_ the person in mind for it, as long as that Ravenclaw prefect could be taken out of the running for the position.

  
  
A broad smile crossed his face at her irritation. Oh, propriety. It could be so dazzling sometimes.

"So you pass your waste of time to me," he said with an exaggerated hurt expression. "I don't know if I should consider that a token of friendship or to be insulted. _Especially_ since I'll be doing this as a favor to you."  
  
  
A knowing sidelong look, though she didn't speak again until the herd of Hufflepuffs pass.

"Call it an investment of good will."

  
  
He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Weeellll, I _suppose_ I can do this for you, but just this once. I do enjoy being owed a favor."

  
  
"A small favour," she reminded him. Out of the corner of her eye, Irene caught a glimpse of movement, the twitch of a white tea towel around a corner, and she made a note of it for the next time she slipped out. "A 'waste of time' can't be worth all that much, after all."

  
  
"I suppose," Moriarty relented with a small nod. Of course, his idea of a small favor could end up having much larger consequences if one stacked the deck correctly. He was always a fan of butterfly effects. "Just one more thing though."

  
  
It was perhaps for the best that Irene's own ideas of what a small favour could be tended to minimize the amount of both work and damage on her part. It was even possible, perhaps likely, that the balancing act in their exchanges of favour was the only thing keeping the entirity of Slytherin from imploding into all out civil war.

"Oh? So eager to try to call in that favour already?"

  
  
"Not so much a favor as a condition. And I have to admit that I'm not _too_ terribly fond of your methods of persuasion. So many **words**." There was more heat in his voice than usual at the last word, sharp and loud enough to draw the attention of some passing Gryffindors.

But just as quickly as the burst of anger had appeared, it dwindled back down to cool normalcy - or what passed for normalcy with Moriarty. "I do this for you, you _owe_ me. Don't ask why or how, and don't go prying. I'd hate to see your pretty little nose ripped off. It'd be horribly unflattering."

  
  
Her eyes narrowed at the threat. The threats, the manic shifts in mood, they were all part and parcel of dealing with Jim Moriarty, but that didn't mean Irene _enjoyed_ them. In fact if there had been even one person who could match Moriarty's ability and lack of conscience of how he employed said ability, she'd gladly never deal with him at all.

"We both know prying is my business. But you do this and I'll stay out of your way when you call in that favour." It was a concession, and Irene in general hated to concede, but that was always the problem of dealing with him.

  
  
"Hmmm, well I suppose that's as much of an agreement I'll get out of you." Moriarty clapped his hands together cheerfully, a fanatical gleam in his dark eyes. "So much to do, so little time. Miss Adler, it's _always_ a pleasure to do business with you."


End file.
